Truth Or
by 3iris
Summary: We have all read at least one. This is my twist on the ever popular Truth or Dare fanfic. I know it's an overused tool, but I couldn't resist. It's too much fun.
1. Chapter 1

"Are you serious, Castle?" She crossed her arms across her chest, and gave him her most disapproving look, hoping to make his request sound so ridiculous, he would backtrack and play it off as a joke. She knew him well enough to know it was a possibility. Part of her depended on that, the other part, the much bigger part, was insanely curious about what she could learn about the writer. Things that were not general knowledge, things that could not be learned by reading the _Daily Ledger_.

"Are you scared, Detective Beckett?" He noticed her fidget slightly, and bring her hand up to play with the chain around her neck. She only did this when she was contemplating something, weighing the pros and cons of her actions. She saw him notice, and she crossed her arms in front of her again. He leaned forward a bit. "Are you hiding something? Something juicy?"

She raised her eyebrows at him. "Seriously? _Truth or Dare_? What are we? Twelve?"

"I've been accused of worse. Come on, it's Prom Night. Channel your inner teenager."

"It's Alexis' prom night. I am going to be working all weekend, so for me, it's just another school night."

"Come on. Where is your sense of adventure?"

"Adventure? You consider adventure hanging around your apartment on a Saturday night playing _Truth or Dare_?

Her evaluation made him pause for a minute and realize she was right. This was definitely not his usual entertainment for a Saturday night. He was puzzled that he couldn't remember being more intrigued by his Saturday night activities in a long while.

She interrupted his thoughts. "The only people who play _Truth or Dare _are adolescence who are to insecure to actually ask somebody to kiss them. I'm not going to kiss you, Castle, so there is no need for the pretense." She returned his gesture, leaning even closer to him, looked him in the eyes boldly, and grinned.

He was speechless a moment, and then coughed nervously. "Fair enough." He moved into the living room, leaning back comfortably into the sofa. He put his feet up on the table, and brought his arms up, locking his fingers together behind his head. He gestured to the wide expanse of open sofa near him. "You agreed to come here tonight, and help keep my mind off of things."

She leaned against the arm of the sofa, ignoring his silent invitation. "You need to get over it. If Alexis wants to have sex, she's going to find a way to do it. Prom is not the only opportunity. Girls that age aren't as naive as boys like to think, unless they want to be. Alexis is a smart kid. She's not going to do anything stupid. And what do you mean I agreed? I lost a bet."

"Which I am going to hold you to. I really thought you would be better at this, but this is not helping. Regardless of you not buying into the whole prom night myth, I still need some kind of distraction. Since the premise of _Truth or Dare_ seems to offend you, let's just play _Truth_, hold the childish dares." She seemed skeptical, but rolled her eyes, and told him to go on. "Just truth. I ask a question. You ask a question. Only truthful answers. Very adult-like. Just conversation. No me tricking you into kissing me, which, by the way, was a wild assumption on your part. I could have suggested _Spin The Bottle_."

She couldn't help but smile. "It was purely hypothetical."

"Right."

"Whatever, Castle. How do we know the other is being truthful?"

He grinned at her, and raised an eyebrow, tilting his head toward the empty seat again. "It's just a game. What would be the point of not being truthful?"

"Embarrassment, humiliation, . . . " She rolled her eyes.

"Point taken." He drifted off in thought for a moment. "OK. How about this? We each get three 'bullshits'. We think somebody is not being real, we call 'bullshit', and make a phone call for verification."

Kate laughed, genuinely amused by his creativity. "Call whom?"

"Somebody who will verify the story . . . my mother, Alexis, Lanie, your father . . . "

She finally gave in, and took a seat on the opposite end of the sofa, facing him and sitting cross-legged. She pulled a pillow on to her lap, knowing she was going to regret it eventually. She shrugged. "OK."

"Really?" The surprise on his face was evident. "OK. Me first. Ready?"

"As I'll ever be."

"Where did you have your first sexual experience?" He considered starting with some mundane topic that he really didn't care about, but quickly threw out that idea, and went straight for the good stuff, stuff that really didn't come up in everyday conversation.

Already regretting her decision to play along, she just smirked, and shook her head. "I'm not going to answer that."

"What a surprise. I knew you wouldn't do this." He sneaked a look at her, seeing if she would buy into his challenge.

She knew he was baiting her. She could play things his way. "Fine. If you really want to know, it was in the back of an old Chevy Suburban off an old back road out of the city. It was early spring. It was freezing out, and the Suburban was missing the back window. I was a Sophomore and he was a Senior. We slipped out of Prom early so I could be home by curfew." She watched his eyes go wide, and the blood drain from his face. She tried, but she couldn't keep a straight face.

"Bullshit." She couldn't help but laugh at the look of panic that was slowly receding from his features. "That was cruel."

"I'm sorry. I couldn't resist." She looked at him seriously. "I didn't make up the part about the Suburban and the missing window and the wooded road. It was actually January though, New Years Eve, and I was eighteen, a senior."

"Classy guy." He was the one smirking at her with disapproval now. Did she not just tell him that girls didn't always fall for that kind of thing? He was beginning to wonder if this game, and this night, was such a good idea.

"Privacy was not easy to come by with my parents. If you really want to know, it was actually very romantic, until we fell asleep with the truck running, for heat, and ran out of gas. We had to walk a mile to a gas station, and then back to the truck. He finally dropped me off at five in the morning. My father was talking to our doorman when we pulled up in the giant truck with a mattress and blankets practically hanging out of the open back window, wrinkly clothes, morning hair . . ." She smiled to herself at the memory that always made her want to give her father a hug. "I thought he would freak out, but when we went inside, he just asked me three things. Do you love him? Did he treat you with respect? Were you being safe? Here it is more than a dozen years later, and I still think about those questions every time." She realized that she probably gave him more information than he asked for, and looked away shyly.

He couldn't help but feel a wave of respect and emotion wash over him. She lived her life in a way he could only hope Alexis would choose. "Your father sounds like a wise man."

"He doesn't want anything more than what you want for Alexis."

The embarrassment was not lost on him. It was a huge revelation, and he knew that she realized it, and felt awkward because of it. She had set the tone of the game, and he was apprehensive, and impatient, about where things would go from here.

She recognized his expression, the one he wears when he is around Alexis, or thinking about Alexis, and decided it was time for her to hold up her end of the deal, and steer the conversation to something that wouldn't make him think about his sixteen year old daughter coming home from the prom in wrinkled clothes and morning hair. "OK. I guess it's my turn to ask a question."

He shook off the emotions that he knew he always wore on his sleeve, and decided he would need to revisit this subject again soon. "Shoot."

"What were your first thoughts when you found out you were going to be a father?"

She surprised him again with her willingness to participate, but he recovered quickly, and answered the question. "I still felt like a kid myself. I was an immature twenty two . . . I know what you are thinking. Don't say it."

"I wasn't going to." She stifled a grin.

"Anyway, my first reaction was -- 'Oh, shit. No way. We used a condom. Didn't we?'. That is the cleaned up version anyway. It wasn't until several, _several _weeks later I faced reality. I remember seeing the thing on the screen that actually looked like a real baby, and I felt like I had been hit by a Mac truck. The truly frightening reality came months later, when I realized, out of the two of us, I was the mature one in our situation." A small smile graced her lips, as he finished. "My turn." He paused just long enough for her to look up at him. "How do you feel about having a child of your own some day?"

It was his turn to surprise her this time. It's not like she had never thought about it. It was just something she never discussed, with anyone. "I always pictured myself with kids at some point." She didn't look away, wanting to see his reaction. She always felt guilty about wanting a baby. In her line of work, she should not have someone depending on her. She desperately wanted him to not call her on the selfishness of what she wanted. His face was unreadable, so she went on. "I don't know if it is more selfish that I would consider having a baby, doing what I do, and the risks that come with it, or, if it is more selfish to not have a baby because I don't want to give up my job. Either way, I don't see the issue coming up any time soon." He didn't say anything right away. She looked down, letting her hair fall over her face, hiding the disappointment of not getting the approval she desperately wanted.

"You would be an excellent mother. I've seen you with kids. Being a parent is something you shouldn't miss out on. You have given so much to your work. If you want a baby, it should be one of those non-negotiable splurges, like those killer shoes that really are not in your budget, but would make you feel so much better as a person."

She couldn't help but laugh at him. "Did you just say 'killer shoes'? You spend way too much time with women."

"I did, and I also compared buying shoes to having a baby. I keep telling them that all the feminine products in my house is stunting my production of testosterone." He moved closer, and nudged her with his shoulder. "All kidding aside, you have to follow your heart on that one. If you don't, it could be one of your biggest regrets."

She had to think about her next question. She felt how personal their questions were getting, and she paused before going on. She finally decided it was all just part of the game. What could it hurt? "Have you ever been with a woman that you would have considered starting a family with?"

"I've been married twice. I guess I don't understand the question."

"You seemed to have stumbled into your relationship with Meredith. Have you been with anyone that you would have wanted the whole thing with -- dating, marriage, kids, grand kids?"

"Are you asking if I have ever been in love, Detective Beckett?" She only raised her eyebrows at him. He turned to her, amusement coloring his face, excentuating the laughlines around his eyes. "I have never been inclined to get down on one knee and profess my love to anyone from my past."

"That's odd, considering you _have _been married twice."

"Like you said, I've kind of stumbled into my previous marriages. I've never had it _exactly _the way you described."

He looked sincere, but she knew he was not being truthful. "Bullshit."

"What? No. I'm being honest." He looked baffled at her challenge.

"What about Kyra?"

"Kyra was in college. I thought that was it, that I loved her, but I never would have considered marriage and a family at that point. Have you ever been in love?"

She paused again. Asking the questions was so much easier than answering them. "That is such a hard question. There are times I've thought I was in love. I turned out to be wrong. It ended up being something much less. I think if you have invested enough of yourself, it's easy to convince yourself it could be the real thing. It always seems like love, until you look at it in hindsight."

.

**A/N:**

**Yes..... _How To Lose A Guy In Ten Days_ inspired the 'bullshit' idea. They play that movie way too much on Directv. **

**More to come. There will be a few more questions, a little bit of light smut, and a little drama. This thing is mostly finished, so I will be posting frequently. A while back, I posted a Bones fic with an update-a-day. I got a lot of love for that. Maybe I'll make that my goal. . .**


	2. Chapter 2

"You surprise me. I didn't think you would take this seriously." He got up and got a bottle of wine and glasses.

She looked at him incredulously. "_You _are accusing _me _of not taking things seriously?" She laughed.

"You are not generally a sharer of feelings."

"Maybe not, but I am curious, so that balances things out for me." She watched him until he noticed, and then he put their glasses down, and sat down just a little closer than before. He turned to face her.

"What?" She fidgeted nervously, but he could see that she was more serious. He could feel that the climate of the game had changed. Suddenly, it no longer seemed like they were playing. It seemed like she was really paying attention to his answers.

"Nothing. I'm just trying to figure this out, figure you out. If you want a distraction for the evening, surely you don't have to resort to rigging a bet?"

"Is that my question? Do you really want me to answer that?" He leaned forward, combing his fingers through his hair. He finally turned to face her again, to find her still watching him intently.

Finally, she broke eye contact. "No. It was just an observation. It's still my turn, right?" She swallowed hard, willing the giant lump that had formed in her throat to go away. "Do you believe that every person has one person out there that they are meant to be with?"

"One person, in the whole world? I don't know. I like the idea of it. It explains the out of control divorce rate. People don't like waiting for the right one. They get impatient, settle for the next best thing, or the next to the next best thing, or the thing that seems ok for now."

"They?" She raised an eyebrow at him.

"Thank you for pointing that out."

"Just keeping it real."

"Actually, I've never really thought about it, but I love the concept. As long as I am one of the lucky ones who actually cross paths with my 'one', and not one of the ones that stumble along, not really sure what they are looking for. Or, worse yet, one of those people who cross paths with the one everyday, but are too blind or scared to do anything about it. I guess I can also make an argument for the other side, though."

"Which would be . . . if you look hard enough, you can always find somebody better, somebody smarter, hotter, prettier, somebody you could possibly love more?"

He thought to himself that it didn't seem to be going well. "No . . . I was actually thinking of a good buddy of mine. He was married to the woman of his dreams. They were disgustingly 'right' for each other, and it was obscenely obvious that they were each others worlds. They were married for ten years. A few years ago, she and their son were killed in a car accident. He was lost, suicidal, but he pulled out of it. He wasn't looking, but he found somebody to love again. I just went to his second wedding last year."

She leaned closer to him, rested her hand on his arm, and looked at him with sympathetic eyes. "Oh my God, Castle. That is so . . . " She then noticed the sparkle in his eyes, and realized he had done it again. ". . . bullshit."

He looked at her with outrage, but there was a sparkle in his eyes. "What? Go ahead. Call my buddy."

"Sure Castle, if that's the way you want to play it."

He laughed, and swirled the wine around in his glass. "I must be losing my touch. I thought I had you with that one." He leaned closer, his eyes turning serious. "To answer your question, honestly this time, yes, I do believe there is only one person out there for everyone. However, I also believe that if that person is lost to you, the stars realign, and you are provided a second chance at love, if you are willing to take that chance again."

She looked down, breaking eye contact, and realized she still had her hand resting on his forearm. She pulled it back into her lap, and caught her lower lip between her teeth, thinking about what he proposed. "OK, so now, according to your theory, there is this person 'out there' who's only chance at love is this person who just tragically lost their one true love, and may or not be receptive to another relationship. That hardly seems fair in the grand scheme of things."

"Love's a bitch."

She laughed at that, realizing that he confirmed what she already suspected, that deep down, he was a romantic at heart. He would have to be to write the books that have women falling all over themselves for him. "I don't remember who's turn it is."

"You asked me if I believed in true love. Now, it's my turn. Why does the concept of there being only one person out there that you are meant to be with scare you?"

"Because I am a realist, not a romantic. I believe there are variables that make things more complicated than you paint it."

"Bullshit." He watched her eyes go wide when he called her out.

"What? You don't like looking at things realistically?" She hated it when he looked at her that way. It made her feel like he could see right through her, and read all her thoughts.

"That's not really what I get paid to do. What fun would books be if they were nothing but reality?" He sipped his wine patiently, waiting anxiously to see how she would try to backpedal away from the original question.

"The genre is called non-fiction, and there are libraries half full of it. In fact, reality is so popular, it's even spreading to television."

He looked at her distastefully, as he nearly choked on his red wine. "You are calling reality TV 'non-fiction'? Nikki Heat is more reality driven than those shows."

"Agreed." She followed his lead, and picked up her glass of wine, sipping nonchalantly, as he waited patiently for her answer.

He cleared his throat to get her attention, raising an eyebrow at her. "Just for the record, you are _sooo_ a romantic. Are you going to answer my question, or are you going to keep trying to lead me off the trail?"

"What? I already answered your question."

"Fine. I will leave it at that for now. Your turn."

She put her empty glass down on the table in front of them, and turned so her body was angled toward his, not too close, but enough to let him know that she was going to pay attention to his answer. "How many women have you been with?"

He swallowed hard. "What? You mean . . . like a number?" She smiled and nodded. He cleared his throat. "Ever? I really don't keep track that way."

"Just a ballpark . . . and not ever . . . just the last year."

"You're serious? You want a number?" He glanced at her empty glass. "How many of those have you had?"

"My question first." She was still smiling daringly. He could tell that she didn't think he would answer her.

He turned his body to match the angle of hers. "Ok. Just to clarify . . . You want to know how many women I've 'been with' in the last year. Can you define 'been with'?"

"Use your imagination, writer boy."

"It was your question. I just want to make sure I understand the context."

"By 'been with', I mean 'had sex with', regardless of whether one of you tiptoed out before morning, or if you've forgotten her name."

He leaned in a bit closer. " I would just like to say two things first. One. I am writing down which wine you are drinking, because it's a really good one. Second. I don't do that . . . and by that, I mean 'be with' somebody that I don't want to wake up with the next morning."

She noticed he was suddenly very serious, which flustered her a bit. She was ready for gloating and boasting, not sincerity and honesty. "Ok. Common misconception noted. And your answer is . . . ?"

"In the past year . . . one." She looked up out of surprise, just in time to meet his eyes.

"That's . . . surprising. I would say bullshit, but if you were lying, you would at least throw out a number that is somewhat believable. Five maybe, even three . . ."

"Is it so hard to believe that I am particular?" He grinned his crooked smile at her, and she noticed, alarmingly, that she was a little out of breath. If he would just not look at her that way. "And you? How particular are you these days?"

She mentally kicked herself for not thinking through her question enough. Of course he would turn it around on her. "Very." She mumbled her answer, as she put some distance between them, suddenly realizing how physically close he was. She picked up her glass and walked into the kitchen for a refill, and to catch her breath.

He didn't follow her, but his question lingered heavily in the air. She was having fun, enjoying the dangerous game they were playing. She was learning intriguing things about him, without having to worry about crossing any lines. She thought it would be uncomfortable opening up to him, and revealing things she normally would not discuss. She was wrong. It was just as exciting seeing how he accepted the information she was giving him, as it was to learn his secrets. She picked up the bottle, and her newly filled glass, and sat them on the sofa table, before she reclaimed her postion on the sofa.

"That was very vague. I'm looking for a number."

"That wasn't your question. You asked how particular I was, and my answer was 'very particular'. On a scale of 1 to 10, with 10 being the most particular, I would say I am an eleven. Is that a detailed enough answer?" She refilled his glass, and left hers untouched on the table.

"Now you're a wordsmith? Sounds to me like you have something to hide? Maybe you're not as particular as you would like to think?" He raised his eyebrows dramatically, and made a show of draining half his glass of wine, then settling back into the sofa.

"Sorry. It's my turn. You can ask me anything you want, when it's your turn."

"Fair enough."

"You could be doing research for a new novel anywhere in the world, all expenses paid. Why would you want to hang around the underbelly of our city, and deal with the disgusting things people do to each other every day?"

He could see that she was trying to steer the conversation back to safer, neutral territory. She knew how to handle herself when it came to her work. She seemed to be struggling with her other side, the side he wanted to understand better. "Writing does not save the world, or the day, or the damsel in distress. Maybe, under the best of circumstances, maybe something I write may help somebody escape the real world for a period of time, but the real world doesn't go away. The bad things are still there. How many writers get to make the kind of difference that you are giving me the chance to? And that is rhetorical, I still get a question."

"That was a great answer. You've questioned your own motivation before."

"Of course I have. I can't be that guy who is just there to follow the pretty girl." He caught her blush slightly before she leaned away from him to pick up her wine glass. He decided it would probably be in his best interest to keep that discovery to himself. He waggled his eyebrows at her. "So, how long has it been since one of the guys who _are_ there just to follow the pretty girl, actually got the girl?"

"Very smooth."

"Thank you. Occupational hazard. So? How long?"

"It's a really, really long time." She looked up at him, and suddenly he could see her insecurity, even though she was trying to pass it off as a joke.

"Ok. To me, a long time is, say, 6 weeks. A year would be a really long time. What do you consider a really, _really _long time?"

"Six weeks is a long time. Really?" She took a deep breath. "Because that makes this much harder to say." She looked down into her glass, any trace of humor gone from her eyes, as he watched her swirl her drink around in it. She was absolutely not ready to lay everything out on the table, but she felt more certain about her feelings than she had ever been able to quantify. "Can I be truthful with you?" She didn't wait for his answer. She knew that's what he wanted. "If I told you how long it's been, you would definitely have more questions. Let's just say for now that it has been more than a year, and leave it at that for tonight." She tilted her head, and looked into his eyes. "Maybe you can find some more of this wine, and if you want to, we can go into it another time."

There. She did it. She put it out there. Kind of.

.

**A/N:**

**For the purpose of this story, we are just going to pretend Ellie Monroe didn't happen. OK? Same goes for Detective Deming. Everybody says we need them to make them realize their feelings for each other. I say....who needs them?**


	3. Chapter 3

Rick Castle was surprised. No, not just surprised. Completely taken aback. Did she really just initiate another evening of wine and conversation? Did she really glance meaningfully at his lips when she said it, or was that just his imagination? He wondered if she might just be enjoying this new intimacy as much as he was. He wondered absently, and with a certain amount of excitement, what the big secret was that she was not ready to reveal. "Just so you know, I will hold you to that."

"I'm sure you will, Castle."

She did it again. He was sure of it this time. She glanced at his lips, and then caught herself and looked back at him to see if he noticed. She caught her lower lip between her teeth, and held her breath.

She saw his eyes sparkle, as he shifted into full charm mode. He picked up a lock of hair that escaped from her ponytail, and held it between his fingers. She involuntarily drew in her breath, and held it, as she felt his fingers brush her cheekbone.

He let his hand linger longer than he intended. What they were doing was dangerous. They had wrapped themselves in a hazy cocoon where only the two of them existed, where the outside world could not intrude on the intimacy they had created. "I have a question for you. How long are we going to keep playing these games?" He twisted the stray piece of hair in his fingers, before he tucked it behind her ear, letting his fingertips brush lightly across her neck.

"You are the one that suggested it. What's wrong? You can't handle it?" She tried to cover the trimmer in her voice with a hint of sarcasm, but it didn't come across as she expected. She sounded anxious, even to herself.

"Am I making you nervous?"

She considered her answer carefully, and came to the conclusion that she really should be more nervous than she really was. "I stuck it out through the questions, didn't I?"

"You held your own, but then again interrogation is part of your job." He ran the back of his fingers gently across her cheekbone, leaning closer to her. "And this?"

He was so close, she could almost feel his breath across her face. She kept her eyes on his, because she felt like this was part of the game they were playing. He was daring her to look away. Maybe it was her competitive streak that kept her eyes locked on his, or maybe it was something she saw in them. Something he was trying to tell her without words. "This is definitely something new. I'll have to get back to you."

"Since the verdict is still out, why don't you also consider this." He leaned in even closer, and brushed his lips lightly over hers. She closed her eyes, and found she was holding her breath again, not exactly sure what was happening, but waiting for more. It wasn't what she would consider a true kiss, but the brief contact jolted her. For him, in that split second, he had the answer he needed. He saw the anticipation in her eyes when she realized that he was going to kiss her. He always knew that when they came together, there would be sparks, but watching her face, watching her react to that brief connection, that tiny moment that their lips met, was more than he expected, and he was mesmerized.

She opened her eyes slowly, releasing the breath she had been holding, and found him watching her. Without thinking, she ran her fingers down the sides of his face, tracing them over his lips, and finally supporting his chin in her hand as she claimed his lips with hers. She took her time. Her first taste of his lips was slow and tentative. He slid her hair band off her ponytail, and tangled his hands in her hair. She pulled away slightly, licking her lips, and looking very dazed. She leaned her forehead against his. "Quick . . . remind me why we shouldn't be doing this."

"Sorry, I can't remember. Did we ever come up with a good reason?"

She angled her body so it was in alignment with his. With one motion he wrapped his arm around her waist and pulled her on top of him. He was reclined back on the sofa, with his head resting on the back. She was sitting on his lap, straddling him, looking into his eyes, and a little voice in the back of her head was wondering out loud if either of them were going to stop this before it blazed out of control.

"Kate, I'm not complaining, but if we are going to stop, now would be a really good time."

She wondered if Castle heard her little voice, or if he had one of his own. "Do you want me to go?"

He pushed her hair away from her face, trying to get a better look at her, and a clearer insight on whether they were on the same page. The emotions playing across her features took his breath away. "I want you to stay. It's more than that. I need you to be sure you want to stay."

She swallowed hard, willing her voice to sound stronger than she felt. "Isn't it embarrassingly obvious what I want?" It didn't work. Her question came out sounding less like a playful question, and more like a desperate plea.

He wanted to touch her, really touch her, but was so enthralled by her acceptance of the situation, he couldn't look away from her eyes, and the strength of the emotion he could read in them. His hand went to her face, and caressed her cheek. "This is going to be pretty amazing, isn't it?"

"There is only one way to know for sure." She reached between them, and started unbuttoning her blouse. Like the kid at heart that he is, he savored the surprise until the very end, refusing to look until she was finished, and the shirt had been shrugged off her shoulders, and to the floor behind her. While she was taking her time with each tiny button, he took the opportunity to kiss her properly, busying his mind off what was playing out before him, or more precisely, on top of him.

He could feel it, and he could see it in her eyes, that there was no turning back. There was no way to deny the pull that had always been between them, but also kept them at arms length. This was too much. Too many revelations, images and sensations have been thrown into the equation. Even if they stopped now, and he shuddered at the mere thought of it, they would never be able to go back.

She shifted slightly, and his attention was brought back to the evenings current activities. He could never put what he was feeling into words as he felt her fingers moving between them, and heard her breathing speed in reaction to the kiss. Finally, she pulled away, and sat upright, letting her shirt fall off her shoulders.

As he watched her poised over him, smiling, flushed, and now focusing on the buttons of his shirt, he almost had himself convinced that this was not really happening. He put his hands over hers, stilling them. "Say something. Convince me this is real. Tell me what you are thinking."

She slid one of her hands out of his, and into his half open shirt, then across his bare chest. "I am thinking that I am doing all the work, and you still haven't touched me. It's making me wonder if you are really that into this. . ." Her voice was breathless, and just teasing enough for him to ignore the hint of insecurity he detected.

He slid his hands under her bottom, grabbing her and and sliding her forward and flush against him, so it was obvious to her just how into it he was. And it was very obvious, even with the two layers of denim between them. He held on to her, and shifted her weight slightly against him again. He heard her sharp intake of breath, and could feel the warmth between them, and knew they were both barely clinging to maintaining the last of their control. He loved seeing her on the edge, and couldn't help seeing how far he could take it. He watched her face, enthralled with just seeing her reaction.

She could feel her heart beating wildly, and when he kept sliding her firmly against him, it was draining her of her last bit of restraint. What was left of her questions, doubts and concerns were quickly pushed to the back of her mind. She heard a sound break into her thoughts, that was something between a sigh and a moan, and realized it came from her. It was quickly stifled with his mouth covering hers. He pulled his hands out from under her, and let them run lightly over the newly exposed flesh that he had been neglecting.

She had never let herself go so completely. As she lay awake in his bed much later that night, curled against him with her head on his chest, she thought about what had happened, and couldn't help but smile to herself. He had carried her hurriedly into his bedroom, bumping into things in the dark, and finally dumping her clumsily on his bed. They laughed and quickly picked up where they left off.

It was amazing. It was new, and exciting, but it still felt like them, or an extension of what they had been. It left her feeling a new connection had been forged with him, a new connection for them to build on, but the tiny doubt that kept surfacing was getting bigger and more demanding. The question kept popping into her head. Does he do connections? Will he be around long enough for them to build on anything? What will happen when he gets bored, when the newness and excitement wears off?

She let herself lay and think about it for a while, trying to convince herself that he felt the same way, but also playing the devil's advocate. The steady rise and fall of his chest was distracting. She tried to listen to his breathing and fall asleep to the rhythm of it, but she was suddenly aware, hyper aware of the vulnerable position she put herself in, both physically and mentally. She was naked in his bed. What would the morning bring? Regret? Awkwardness? What if last night was as far into the future as he thought about?

She got up quietly, carefully picking up his arm from her waist, and relocating it over a pillow. She walked as quietly as she could back to his living room, and gathered her clothes. She was angry to feel a tear slip down her cheek, and drop onto her arm. She didn't know if she was more frustrated at herself for letting herself get into this situation, or because she was too scared to stay and figure it out. Would he be hurt to find her gone in the morning, or would he be relieved?

Her head was spinning with unanswered questions, but all she knew for sure was that she had to get out of there. She needed to get away so she could think.

**A/N:**

**I think I promised somewhere that there would be a little smut. It turns out this wasn't really smut, more like Smut Lite.** **Problems ensue in the coming chapter. Stay tuned.....**

**Oh, and one more random thing I would like to add. I really wanted the title to be "Truth or . . . ", but it won't except the " . . . ". ?? Just wanted to explain the weird title. **


	4. Chapter 4

The doorman smiled at her, and waved, asking cheerily if she needed a cab. He always enjoyed talking to the detective while they waited for her cab.

She kept her head down, and shook her head as she walked by. "I'll walk tonight. Thanks, Henry."

"It's pretty late. Why don't you let me call one for you?" He looked at her curiously. "Mr. Castle would not be happy with me if I let you walk home alone this time of night."

"I need some fresh air tonight, Henry. It will be our secret." She attempted a smile, and gave him a pleading look, that begged him to leave it, and let her be alone.

He saw that she had been crying, and obviously in a hurry to make her retreat. "Ok, then, but be careful. I'll be seeing you soon." She started to head toward the door, when he touched her shoulder. "Get a good night's sleep. Things never seem as bad after you sleep on them."

Kate turned back toward the door just in time to miss Martha correcting her course to put herself in earshot of Henry and Detective Beckett. Of course, Martha didn't miss anything, and took in the whole scene. As soon as Kate left the building, Martha breezed over to Henry.

"That was Detective Beckett leaving?"

"Yes, maam. She and Mr. Castle must have had a falling out of sorts. She seemed a little upset. She wouldn't let me call a cab. She was in a big hurry to leave."

"Did she say why?"

"She didn't have much to say, but looks to me like she's been crying."

"Thanks, Henry. Why don't you have the car brought back around? She probably won't take the ride, but at least he can make sure she gets home safely."

"Yes, maam."

Martha dropped her keys on the table, sighing as she saw the wine glasses and random clothing strewn about the living room. Apparently, she was not expected home tonight. She headed straight for Castle's bedroom. She didn't wait to fling the door open fully before she lit into him. "Richard Castle, what have you done to Detective Beckett, besides the obvious?"

He flipped over, tangling himself in his covers at the yelling and the sudden burst of light into the room, and then sat straight up, pulling the covers around him. "Mother? What? What are you doing?"

"Well, I can see there was no need for me to rush home to keep you company tonight. What did you do?"

He was confused . . . deeply confused. He looked at the empty pillow beside him, and then at the dark bathroom. Where was Kate? Why was his mother standing in his bedroom yelling at him? He shook his head, trying to shake away the cobwebs from his deep sleep. "Where is Kate?"

"I imagine by now, around 53rd. I passed her in the lobby as I was coming up. She was heading out, giving Henry a hard time about accepting a ride, and crying. What did you do?"

"Do you mind, mother? I'll be out in a minute."

Martha skulked out, and he rummaged around in the dark for his pants, and his phone. He dialed her number, with no answer, and threw the phone on the bed. He came out a few minutes later, combing his fingers through his hair, and searching the living room for his shoes, and a shirt. "Why would she leave?" The question was directed more to himself, than to Martha, but of course, she didn't mind giving him her opinion anyway.

"She left because you rushed into something without thinking about the consequences. Coming from someone who has walked the walk of shame herself several times, she wasn't sure if you would want her here in the morning, so best to leave, and not have to face an awkward situation."

"That is not what she thinks. She knows."

"Did you tell her? Did you discuss what this step means? Honestly, Richard. What were you thinking? What was she thinking?" She shook her head, rolling her eyes. "Never mind. Don't answer that."

"It's not like that mother. We talked."

"About how you would deal with your new relationship? About what happens next? About what you would do in the morning?"

He looked at her guiltily. "She was really crying?"

"If you want more from her than you expect from one of your book bimbos, you can't treat her like one of them. She needs to know that you think more of her than that. You need to tell her how you feel, what you want."

He looked a little dazed. He was still standing in the living room holding his shoes and keys. "It was so clear to me. I just assumed that she felt the same way."

"Now would be a good time to tell her." She walked over to him, and put her hands on his shoulder. "You love Kate. I love Kate. Alexis loves Kate. Don't screw this up." She patted him on the head, and shook her head, rolling her eyes.

.

**A/N:**

**Hmmm. That was really short, and not really interesting. Let's call it transitional, and wait for the good stuff coming tomorrow.**

**I am not familiar with NYC. I don't know where Castle lives, and I don't know where 53rd is. I just made that up. Yes, I could look it up, but let's just let it go, and pretend it is geographically correct. OK?**


	5. Chapter 5

"Can we talk? I know you are still mad at me for what happened, but I really think we need to talk about it."

"Are you stalking me now, Castle?" She walked past him, seriously considering continuing into her building, and leaving him on the front steps, but she knew it wouldn't do any good. He would keep popping up. He wasn't one to let things go. She imagined trying to have this discussion at the grocery store, or her gym, or the precinct. She stopped with her back to him.

"I thought I would give stalking a try. Conventional methods were not working."

"I am not mad at you." She eyed the welcoming front door of her building, and longed to be on the other side, distancing herself from the whole messy situation. Instead, she turned to face him, leaning back against cool glass. She closed her eyes, taking in a deep breath. When she opened her eyes, ready to draw herself back into the conversation, he was standing a little closer, and watching her. That's when she realized that his expression was very guarded. She could tell that he was concerned, but that was it. He was not going to let her in enough to see his feelings. "I am . . ." She thought about it for what seemed like the millionth time, and realized she still didn't know exactly how to pinpoint her feelings on the subject.

"Hurt? I hope not. That is not what I want you to take away from it. I would rather you be mad at me. Disappointed? Unimpressed? I'm not thrilled with those adjectives either."

"Frustrated. I am frustrated that we both let it happen. I mean we are adults, right? There are only a few people in our lives that are off limits, and we couldn't just stick to the rules?"

"Why are you so convinced we made a mistake? What happened the other night. . . It was good. We were good together. I want to be good together again. Why should there be rules forbidding it in the first place?"

"First of all, because we work together. Second, because it's bad enough that I am recognized as the slutty detective in your books, but it's even worse to be the author's latest conquest." She closed her eyes, and dropped her head back against the glass again, and groaned. "Oh, God. It sounds even worse when I say it out loud."

He stood there watching her for almost a full minute before she finally opened her eyes again, then he leaned in closer. "This is normally my line when I am trying to close the deal, but it applies to this situation as well. Come on, how bad can having sex with me possibly be?" It was a risky move, but it paid off. She actually smiled, and rolled her eyes at him.

"Why are you here, Castle?"

"Because, even though you say you're not upset with me, you really are. I can tell. It's not just the circumstances you are frustrated with. It's me. You think I should have done the mature thing, and walked away before it went too far."

"One of us should have."

"So, why didn't you walk away?"

She didn't have a rational answer for him, but she knew her reasons were the same as his. She didn't want to. She was intrigued, and even if she would have realized in the moment that what they were doing would be a mistake, she couldn't have stopped if she wanted to. His pull was like gravity. She looked away, then down at her hands. "It never crossed my mind."

He knew she was being truthful, because he felt the same way. The thought that they might be making a mistake never occured to him, at least not until he woke up in the middle of the night to find her gone. He held out his hand in front of her, palm up.

"What?"

"Your key." He wiggled his fingers impatiently. "Like I said, we need to talk. We can play this anyway you want, but we need to be on the same page. You tell me what you want. We can fix this." She was looking very unconvinced, and feeling more than a little terrified about confronting their actions, and the feelings that have been stirred up. She held out her keys, and reluctantly dropped them in his hand, but made no indication that she was actually going to follow him anywhere. He linked his arm in hers, and peeled her off the glass door that was supporting her. She followed beside him obediently, too distracted by her thoughts to put up much of a fight either way.

He was standing beside her in her elevator, arms still linked, just in case she might entertain thoughts of bolting off the elevator on an alternate floor. He hazarded a glance in her direction, and confirmed that she looked capable of doing just that. "Is the thought of having a civilized discussion on the state of our relationship really that forboding? Because, you look so nervous, I seriously just want to give you a hug. I would if I felt it would be well received, which it would not at this point, right?"

She shrugged her arm free of his, and turned to face him. "Actually, yes, I could use a hug right now, but I don't think that would be fair to either of us. And, yes, I am one emotion short of freaking out right now, but I'm not going to run, if that's what you are afraid of."

"Listen. All I want is for you to tell me what you want. We can do this your way. I just want you to hear me out, and I want to hear your reasons."

The door opened to her floor, and she didn't move. The door closed again and they both stood there in the thick silence. All of the outside noise muffled on the other side of the thick sliding doors.

"I am going to go first . . . if that's ok." She did not protest, so he went on. "I'm not going to pretend that I am not attracted to you . . . fascinated actually. I'm not going to deny that even though it felt completely right, the timing was definitely not right."

She looked up at him, completely surprised at the admission, but skeptical at the same time. "I think we are on the same page so far, but I am a little confused, because I didn't think you had a problem with what happened."

"I didn't either. I just realized, and I mean like two minutes ago, that you could, and probably will, give me a dozen different reasons it was a mistake. . . . us working together, losing our focus on the job, what people are thinking, even ruining what is already a damn good relationship . . . None of those are the reason that night was a mistake. The mistake was in going down that road when you have already formed an opinion that I could never be what you want, that I could never be somebody that you can trust. That is my fault, because I knew there was a part of you that felt that way. You called yourself one of my conquests. That is all you think I am capable of."

"What else should I think? What have I seen that would make me think otherwise?"

"I know, but if you really let yourself think about it, you know the real me. I'm not talking about the publicized me, or the me we all like to joke about. You know that I would not jeopardize what we have for one night." His voice lowered as he leaned in closer to her. "You _know _that. I may have spent my whole life getting it wrong, but this is different. I want to do this right."

"What if I don't know? What if I really want to believe it, but I'm not quite there yet? What if I am completely confused about what it meant, and where we go from here?"

"The other night, you were letting your heart lead. Your instincts told you it was ok, and nothing else mattered. If you don't know, if it's too much for me to ask for you to trust your heart, then all I ask is that you give me the chance to prove it to you."

"Prove what to me? That you will still respect me in the morning?" She laughed, and shook her head. "I truthfully never had any intention of ever putting myself in this position, of wondering where your short attention span will take you next. Please don't make me ask this."

"I am sorry, but I think I have to, because I have no idea what you are talking about."

"What do you want, from us, for the near future? I need to be clear on that before I can wrap my head around what happened the other night, or any of this. What is it that you want?"

"You. I want you. I want us to have more confusing, terrifying talks like this. I want more nights like the other night. I want to know what it's like to wake up with you in my bed. I want to see Ryan and Esposito's face when they find out."

"Wait a minute." She held her hands up, and backed away from him. "I am still trying to figure out what started all of this. When did this happen? We _work _together." She put emphasis on the word 'work', hoping he would stop looking at her like he was ready to pick out their china pattern.

". . . too much, right? We can go back, start over, start slow this time." He still looked excited, like a ten year old before his birthday party. If she was the kind of person that used words like 'starstruck', that's how she would describe him. He sobered slightly when he realized she was just watching him, and not saying anything.

"Way, way too much. I can't do this."

The elevator started moving down again, toward the lobby. They were both silent for the rest of the ride.

.

**A/N:**

**I hope I captured enough of Castle's ego issues and cluelessness when it comes to what Kate wants, to make him sound like Castle, without making him sound too much like a jerk. It's a fine line. . .**


	6. Chapter 6

He felt like he had been punched in the stomach. A million thoughts were running through his head, but he couldn't seem to put any of them into words.

This is not how things were supposed to work out. She was supposed to stay in my bed. She was supposed to wake up to find me watching her sleep. She was supposed to know that I wanted her to be there. She was supposed to know that I have always wanted her there, and that I couldn't imagine ever not wanting her there. She should know how over the moon mother and Alexis would be if it all worked out the way it should.

She was not supposed to have tiptoed out of my apartment crying. She was not supposed to spend the next two days ignoring my calls. She was not supposed to think I had my fun and was moving on. She was not supposed to just give up.

He hit the emergency stop button on the elevator before the doors could open. He couldn't let her walk out, and keep pretending what happened didn't mean anything.

She stopped with her back to him, and thought about whether she was angry or relieved that he stopped her. "What are you doing?" The tone of her voice said angry. She knew it was best to stick with her original plan of getting away while she still had the willpower to do so, but she knew that deep down, she was relieved. She wanted him to make her believe it could work.

"What I should have done two days ago. What I should have done before I let things get so messed up and confused. We are going to sit down and talk about this, about us."

She looked nervously at the elevator door, and then turned and looked at Castle. He sat down on the floor, his back leaning against the wall. He held his hand out to her, not sure what he would do if she refused him. She didn't. She hesitated long enough to make him worry, but eventually she put her hand in his. He held on to it a moment before he tugged on it for her to sit next to him. She waited for him to let go, but he held on tightly.

"You don't trust me. That's a big problem."

She was sitting beside him, her back against the wall, her eyes on the far corner of the elevator. She could feel his eyes boring into her, but she couldn't look at him. "I really want to. You've made it difficult." She had to say some difficult things, and if she looked into his eyes, she didn't know if she could do it.

"You thought the other night was just about sex."

"I have to admit, a part of me felt that way." She looked down at their hands, his fingers linked through hers.

"It wasn't. It was about being with you. You didn't think I would want you to be there in the morning. There is nothing I wanted more."

"It was a very loud part of me that felt that way. It keeps getting louder." His thumb was drawing warm lines up and down the side of her hand.

"I don't want to hurt you. If I didn't think I was ready for this, I would not have let it happen. You've known all along how much I care about you. If you didn't, you never would have let it happen. Maybe I should have made my intentions clear before things went so far, but I thought we would have had all day yesterday to talk and work out the details. What about the other part? What was the other part of you feeling?"

"It was a very quiet part, but it was telling me to stay and find out. It was telling me that maybe I should trust my instincts, maybe I should trust you."

He squeezed her hand, and brought it up to his lips. "You really should, and you can. You will see." He kissed each of her knuckles. "Please look at me." Her eyes were filled with tears, but she complied with his request, and risked looking into his eyes. "Can I ask you three questions? Same rules apply, only truthful answers?"

She laughed, and shook her head. "You want to play Truth or bullshit again? Now?" One thing she could always depend on with Castle, was his unpredictability. She brushed at a tear with the back of her free hand, and cursed herself for not being able to say no to him. She rolled her eyes.

"Yes. I do. Since the elevator is not working, we have plenty of time, right?"

"Sure, Castle. Why not?" He was holding her hand in both of his. She knew she had a decision to make. Was she just prolonging the inevitable choice that had to be made? It would hurt, a lot, to cut herself off from him. She would miss him. She would miss this. His charm, his devotion, his brutal honesty, his childlike innocence. These were all qualities that she normally wouldn't associate with someone who is not to be trusted. The more she thought about it, the more confused she became. It had been this way all weekend. She would come close to making a decision, then she would consider the alternative reality.

"Did you feel safe?"

She smiled at his odd question. "I guess, considering we were not doing it while sky diving, or while we were driving, and I guess I have to give you bonus points for having a condom laying around during your, um, dry spell."

"Sarcasm? Now?"

"Sorry. . . defense mechanism." She tried to cover up her grin by looking down at their hands again.

"But I can take it as a yes?"

"Yes, I felt safe." She sighed to herself. He made her feel safe. She couldn't deny it. She may be the one with the training and the weapon, but when she was with him, she felt like nothing could hurt her. She sighed again. Except him. She had given him the ultimate power to hurt her. She felt the grin slip away, as she was reminded of the situation again. She looked up at him again, waiting for the next question.

"Was I respectful?"

The tears were suddenly blurring her vision again. She thought about her dad, and her answer to Castle's question that night, and was touched that he remembered. She looked away quickly, with a quiet yes as her answer. She felt him watching her, waiting for her to turn her attention back to him. When she did, she could tell that he was anxious about the next question, and she knew what it was going to be. It was time for her to come clean with her feelings, or deny them and move on.

"Do you think that you could ever fall in love with me?"

Kate suddenly recognized a very different Richard Castle. For once, he made a proposition, and he was not confident about the outcome. He was not just waiting for a confirmation of his desirability to the opposite sex. He was truly scared that he was not enough. He was terrified of being turned away. This brought about a new vulnerability that she never would have associated with her self assured, overly self confident friend.

"I think I already have, whether or not it is in my best interest."

"You already have . . . what?" His eyebrows went up, and he pointed to himself.

She only smiled, and nodded in agreement.

"Really?" He felt himself smiling for the first time in the last 48 hours, and thinking that maybe things were not as bleak as he feared. She was giving him a chance, and he knew that he could show her how much of a difference she had made in his life. He would prove to her that he was ready to get it right.

* * *

_**The End --**_

_**Thank you everyone for your many reviews and alerts. Alerts and Favorites may not make me grin uncontrollably like reviews do, but they are all good.**_


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